Monday, January 19, 2009
Bye-bye, Bush! 1.19.09
For almost four years now, since the depressing result of the `04 election, I've been wearing a pin on my backpack that says simply "1.20.09." Now that that wonderful day of liberation is finally at hand, I've been doing a few things to mark the occasion.
On Friday night, my partner and I hosted a Bye-bye, Bush party. We served pretzels, hung an image of Bush to throw shoes at, handed out Bushisms, offered guests the chance to write down their least favorite moments of the past presidency (to shred) as well as their hopes for the new Obama administration.
This weekend I also watched a documentary called No End in Sight, which lays out exactly how the Bushies got us into the quagmire of Iraq. What was so staggering about watching this film was to see obvious misstep after obvious misstep committed by the president and his top advisors, none of whom had actually served in a war. The incompetence was so pervasive, it was actually impressive. No wonder this is also the president who presided over the Katrina mess, the economic meltdown, the ballooning of the deficit, etc., etc.
And I read the novel Election by Tom Perrotta, which has no explicit link to this day, but is damned funny and a good read. (You may have seen the film with Reese Witherspoon and Matthew Broderick.) Why is it that so many literary novels are written at such a soporific pace? Why can't they be bright, funny, and smart like Tom Perrotta's writing? Instead so many of these books have this somber, earnest tone, trudging from one carefully chosen word to the next. Nothing ever happens. Everything gets described. People, about whom we couldn't care less, say things. Ruminations unfold. You get the picture.
Finally, I made a donation to the Human Rights Campaign to help them fight for gay equality. Consider it my personal tribute to Rick Warren, Tim Kaine, and a host of others.
A few people I know have remarked on how silly the coverage of the transition has become. The Obama Express! The Obama concert! The Obama dildo! (No, I didn't make up that last one.) Well, maybe we're due for a little euphoria. It's been a long eight years of the American people having an enemy in the White House.
This weekend I removed the "1.20.09" pin from my backpack. I don't need to wear it anymore.
posted by aaron hamburger at 11:07 AM
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Tuesday, January 13, 2009
That Thing You Do in Maine
For the past couple of years, I've been on the faculty of a low-residency MFA program in Maine called Stonecoast. The concept of a "low-residency" MFA has proven to be baffling to several of my family members and friends, who tend to refer to it as "that thing you do in Maine."
Actually, the whole concept of the low-res MFA is pretty straightforward and makes a good deal of sense given the solitary nature of the act of writing. Twice a year, students and faculty converge on the low-res program's headquarters (which for some reason often tends to be in New England). For about ten days, they engage in a mad dash of workshops, seminars, lectures, and readings. Then for six months, they return to their respective corners of the country and work on their own. This is done in conjunction with a "mentor" who once a month monitors their progress via the "packet," a compilation of that month's creative and expository output.
The low-res approach has its distinct advantages. First of all, a grad student is probably more likely to develop a close relationship with his or her faculty at a low-res program. Second, the costs of a low-res program tend to be less than in a traditional program (which for some reason is never referred to as a "high residency program"). Third, the sense of competition among students, which sometimes characterizes traditional programs with its weekly writing workshops, has less opportunity to develop in low-res programs. Finally, a low-residency option is a great vehicle for students who don't want to give up their day jobs to devote themselves exclusively to their graduate studies. (And given the current publishing climate, holding on to a day job sounds like a pretty smart idea.)
The downsides? In a traditional program, you may feel less connected to the faculty, but you may also develop a stronger bond with your fellow students. Also, if you go to a traditional program based in New York City, for example, you may have a greater opportunity to make connections and network with editors, agents, and writers. And then of course there is that sort of glazed look of misunderstanding when you try to explain the idea of a "low-residency" MFA to the uninitiated. To those who aren't in the know, the idea of the low-res MFA may sound like getting a degree from the Sears Roebuck catalog in days of yore.
As a teacher who dabbles in leading traditional workshops as well as mentoring, I find that students of each program are highly curious about their counterparts and what they're missing out on by choosing one route or the other. (Though I think that in reality, either approach is effective as long as your program has a strong faculty and you as the student are motivated to make the most of your experience by taking an active role in your education.) Which leads me to wonder, could it be that in the future, a hybrid low-residency-traditional MFA program that features the best of both worlds will somehow emerge?
Stay tuned...
posted by aaron hamburger at 1:26 PM
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